Cloak and Dagger
by ImpaledPrince
Summary: Haruhi always had bad luck, especially when it came to ending up in debt to strange clubs. But it's anyones guess as to what insanity will ensue when she finds herself working for...The Black Magic Club!
1. Chapter 1

**Cloak and Dagger **

**Chapter 1**

Hello to all my fellow Ouranites! This is the first fanfic I've ever written so any constructive critism is greatly appreciated. Ah, my sweet Neko-chan...you never got the love you deserved. Until now, anyway! Oh, and just in case you're wondering, there will be no lemons. Enjoy!

* * *

Raising the glass of Belgian fruit beer to his lips, Umehito Nekozawa savored the burn as he swallowed and the darkish liquid made its way down his parched throat. Although still technically under legal drinking age, his father had always sworn he'd gotten watered-down vodka in his baby bottle. So if Nekozawa respected the Japanese and their customs, why should they not have to do the same? Granted, even his parents didn't know he drank alone. Still, between being the president of the Black Magic Club at his prestigious school and practically being the human epitome of shadow, Nekozawa felt he deserved solace.

"And where am I supposed to look?" he asked, the dry query getting no answer. He was alone in his bedroom, in front of a desk with an exquisitely large wall-mounted monitor. Currently it was displaying various statistics for his family's holdings. The room itself was almost pitch-dark, the only lighting coming from the moon shining through the open window on the far wall and the flickering monitor itself.

He slipped the half-drunk bottle back into its hiding spot in a secret compartment in the desk drawer (an idea he'd casually "borrowed" from Death Note).

"I don't suppose that you would know anything about solace, Bereznoff?" he asked the hand puppet, who was still lying on…

"The desk? Didn't I leave you on the bed?"

Nekozawa slipped the not-so-inanimate object onto his hand.

"We certainly get around, don't we my friend? I suppose you'll just tell me again you're the only friend I'll ever need."

His finger twitched involuntarily, making it appear as though the puppet had nodded.

"Hnnnn…"

Nekozawa turned off the monitor and carefully laid Bereznoff down on the end table beside his canopy bed. Not even bothering to fully change out of his street clothes, he crawled in between the fur blankets, cloak and all.

At around half past four he awoke with a lone realization: he was seriously hot. Not as in sexy, although he did like to think he possessed a lithe charm, but as in he was burning up. Running through possibilities in his mind, he immediately crossed out the likelihood of fire because the air felt cool on his pale, sweaty skin.

"_And why does my head hurt so severely-_"

Oh right, the beers. Whenever he got even a little hung-over his body turned into a furnace.

Swiftly shedding off all his clothes until he stood nude, he grabbed Bereznoff off the end table and stumbled beside the desk to the mini-fridge he kept on hand for such a purpose. Grabbing a bottle of chilled spring water, he held it to his forehead before removing the cap and taking a swig.

"This is all your fault. If I hadn't had to spend all day running around from the Hitachins trying to kidnap you, I wouldn't have drunk so much," he hissed as he closed his eyes, the dim lighting being magnified by the hangover and his absence of dress. The puppet knew what was good for it and remained mute.

"What do they even want with you?" he continued just to keep his mind off the throbbing light. "Can't they see how much you mean to me?"

The puppet looked back at him with an expression plainly reading "Well, DUH."

_Creeeeeeeeeeeeak_

"Yes, well I suppose that's…'creak?'"

The noise had emanated from the open window. Shrugging it off, Nekozawa chugged the remainder of the water. Remembering there was still one more day of school tomorrow before the weekend, he began making his way back to his bed. He made it barely a two steps before something quite unexpected occurred in the space of a few seconds.

Haruhi Fujioka, the poor-man-on-campus at his previously mentioned school, climbed hastily but clumsily through the open window, bonking it with her head as she pulled herself through. Rubbing it, she looked up and saw Nekozawa splayed backwards on the floor in front of the desk from shock, empty water bottle beside him.

An eternity-long millisecond elapsed before the crystal silence of the night was shattered by two simultaneous, equally girlish shrieks.

"KYAAAAAAA!"

"KYAAAAAAA!"

Nekozawa had no clue what the hell was going on, but fainting seemed as good a thing to do as any. His fractured mind promptly sent the oft-repeated signal to his body to pass out.

When he came to, he was still on the floor. Any hope that it had all been a dream was dashed when he saw a mortified-looking Haruhi standing tentatively in the corner, covering her eyes with both hands as if they'd been cursed. For all she knew they might be yet.

"WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?!" he yelped. Looking down, at least Haruhi had apparently given him the decency of covering him with one of the bed's blankets.

"OHMYGODIMSORRYIMSOSORRY!" she stammered, face flushed. "I just thought you deserved an explanation why I snuck in. Also I didn't want you calling the police. I don't need a criminal record on top of everything that's happened to me today. I can explain all of this. Really."

"_Please do, Mr. Fujioka, and I might not summon security_," he said with barely controlled indignation as he stood up. "You're not the only one who's had a long day. Where are those pants…?"

"GURK-" Haruhi covered her eyes again, her already red face turning the shade of a fire truck that had been washed with beet juice.

"What's the matter? You've already seen me and we're both men."

"Yeah. About that…"

"Oh. So the rumors about you being gay are-"

"I'm a_ girl_, you idiot!"

Haruhi's words stunned him. They were spoken with the unmistakable tone of someone who didn't even need to sound confident because it was so obvious to them. The more Nekozawa looked at Haruhi in the moonlight, clichéd though it may be, the more delicate and feminine her features seemed. And there was that time at his beach house when he had briefly spotted her in women's garb. Could it be true?

"In which case…" Nekozawa whispered aloud looking down, as if he was expecting a pair of boxer shorts to materialize out of thin air. Now it was his turn to look very uncomfortable.

"Can you please look away while I get dressed, Mr…er, I mean Ms. Fujioka?"

"I already am" she sighed, waiting patiently as he put his underwear, then slacks, and finally dress shirt back on. "God, hasn't this night dragged on long enough?"

"For you and me both, I'm afraid. And when will you deliver your promised explanation for this intrusion of my privacy? Do you just like catching men in a state of undress?"

"What were you doing naked in front of your computer in the morning anywayyyyYUCK! I _really_ didn't need that mental image!"

"Three things, Mr. Fujioka. One: you would do well to get your mind out of the gutter. Two: you are in no position to ask questions of me right now. And last, but far from least, three: I hope you can run very, very fast."

Haruhi blinked. "'Run'? No, wait!"

Cupping his hands to his mouth, Nekozawa practically growled "SECURITY!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Cloak and Dagger**

**Chapter 2**

Wheeee, Chpater 2 already. I just can't get over how adorable Nekozawa is at heart in the canon, I really hope he doesn't come off as a jerk in this. He's still got a few surprises up his sleeve in store for poor Haruhi, both pleasant and otherwise.

* * *

"The police say it looks like they got in by avoiding the line of sight of the men outside and then climbing up the latticework outside your window. We're still sweeping the grounds but unless he's hiding somewhere on the premises it looks like he got away, Master Umehito" Kadomatsu the family butler apologized.

"I see…" Nekozawa mumbled noncommittally. Haruhi had skedaddled out the window the moment he'd summoned security. He was pondering taking the day off school. It was now past dawn and the bell would ring only a few hours away now, so he had to make his decision soon. However, there were still a few questions he had left for his visitor in the night.

"I understand you must have been frightened by such an experience, but next time if you can gather your wits sooner we'll get them. You're certain you didn't get a good look at their face?" his personal maid Kuretake inquired gently.

"Mnnn, no. I was disoriented and still half-asleep."

He hoped he was making a wise decision in covering for her. Part of him felt sorry for the commoner, but most of him was still deeply confused by all that had transpired. That settled it. Sleep-deprived though he was, he was going into school and going to get some damn answers. That in mind, he hoped she would be at school today as well.

He was on his way shortly later, chauffeured in his newest Mercedes-Benz. As he mulled various introductions over it was slowly occurring that he had no clue how to go about confronting her.

"Hi, what the hell were you doing looking at me naked in my room? No, too direct and suggestive. I think we should continue where we left off late last night? No, too subtle and suggestive. Urrrgh, I can't believe she saw me like, like…_that_. Doesn't that woman have any decency? Or basic shame?! For that matter-"

"Master Nekozawa, we're here," the driver informed him over the in-car intercom.

"Damn it all, this is going to be a long day," he grimaced as he smoothed out a few creases in his robed finery. Stepping out of the luxury car which had joined the countless other makes and models which served as Ouran's ultra-expensive bus fleet, Nekozawa teemed with the throng of students making their way into the school. He winced as he felt the growing difference in the bare sun through his robe as opposed to his car's specially tinted windows.

"Oh man, what'll I do when I run into her? Wait, isn't seeing Haruhi the entire reason I didn't simply take the day off? That's right, I need to find out what the hell all that was about." With those thoughts fresh in his head Nekozawa kept both of his acute eyes scanning for anything looking like the cross-dressing girl in question; alas, by the time he'd reached his locker, nada. It was only at his locker that he noticed a hopeful sign, or slip, rather.

"Hmm? A paper note? I wonder who it could possibly be-"

_I'll meet you after school behind the gymnasium  
-Haruhi_

"Aha. Well, at least it appears she hasn't dropped off the radar completely then, does it Bereznoff?"

The hand puppet nodded twice together with him in mutual agreement. This could be interesting yet.

For the rest of the day, Nekozawa noted there wasn't a trace of Haruhi no matter where he searched. Not like he could really search intensively… he cursed his luck for not having any of the same classes as the younger students. Besides, he supposed it was possible if not probable she was hiding from him.

Possibly because he was half-asleep from lack of rest, the school-day came to an end unusually quickly for him. Gathering up his notes and papers he made his way back to his locker before heading outside and looping around to the gymnasium.

After a half-hour standing in the sweltering July sun he was feeling sorely pissed.

"What if this is a joke to her? What if I'm getting played for a fool? I knew it, I should have just told the cops-"

"Nekozawa!"

He looked at Haruhi, who was leaning against the wall of the building with one hand and putting the other to her chest as she inhaled and exhaled sharply. Had she run all the way here? Then why was she so late?

"I'm so sorry; I had some business to take care of in Host Club. Unpleasant business, I'll tell you about it later. But um, before I tell you what happened last night, something's been eating at me all day. Did you tell anyone?"

"That you're a cross-dressing lunatic who breaks into strangers bedrooms in the middle of the night? No, I didn't. I hope I did not make a grave error in judgment doing so."

"Thanks but…Oh man, you're still mad. I was afraid you would be."

"Well how would Y-YOU feel if I practically gave you a heart attack while you were unclothed?!"

"Um, I'd start by grabbing a nearby blunt object-"

"Miss Fujioka? There's a ridiculous double-standard you're maintaining here."

"Can we please move beyond that? It's almost like it's burned into my retinas but I'm still trying hard to forget."

"Fair enough. Now, I feel you owe me. An explanation, that is."

"Okay, where do I start? Basically this is all Hikaru and Kaoru's doing."

"Why didn't I realize sooner they must have had something to with this" Nekozawa groaned.

"Yeah, basically the way they explained it to me was that they'd been spending a lot of time and effort trying to kidnap Bereznoff. They said that they couldn't get it from you since you were spending time with it like it was practically your substitute girlfriend-"

"Huh…"

"Or words to that effect, I'm cleaning it up a bit. Anyway, they told me you didn't ever let it out of your sight and they were getting bored trying to steal Bereznoff themselves, but on the other hand they still wanted to toy with you a bit."

"Let me guess. That's where you came in?"

"Yep. They were harassing me all day yesterday, and they said they'd keep it up until they had Bereznoff one way or the other. I didn't even know why they wanted it in the first place, I guess they just like giving people headaches."

"It's quite a leap to then break into my house to steal it. How'd you even know where it was?"

"They gave me a little hand with that. I got a drive in one of their limos."

"If that was your getaway car then that also explains how you got away so quickly."

"Yep again. But now I still don't have Bereznoff for them, not that I'd want to risk going through another breaking and entry for anything ever."

"You forgot that you also now could potentially have a criminal record now too."

"Yeah...but I won't, right?"

Nekozawa grinned somewhat unsettlingly. It was all coming together, he could make this work for him.

"No, but I believe I have a proposal which will be mutually beneficial. Wait here for a few moments."

Nodding but not quite understanding what he meant by that, now it was Haruhi's turn to wonder if she was being played. For all she knew Nekozawa was making a call to the police that he'd finally found the culprit. Oh God, she would never live that down. But he wouldn't do that, Nekozawa was basically a decent guy? Right?

"…right?"

"Did you say something, Ms. Fujioka?" Nekozawa was back, much to Haruhi's relief unaccompanied by anyone else. And he was holding something that looked familiar.

"A second Bereznoff, Nekozawa?"

"Actually, a voodoo doll of Bereznoff used for ritual purposes."

Haruhi knew better than to make a smart-aleck comment about why anyone would find useful a voodoo doll of something that was initially a puppet anyway.

"Hold up, is that for me to give to the twins?"

"Yes. Not only that, it is metaphorically dripping with curses and spells of disaster. I think they've earned it for all they put us through, don't you agree?"

"Er, yeah. Listen, thank you so much. You're really a nice person under that dark exterior…hood. I don't know how to repay you."

"Then allow me to make a suggestion!"

"Oh God."

"In exchange for the substitute Bereznoff and my silence as to the matters of last night, you will become the Black Magic Club's newest member!"

"Ha...ha-ha, good one...you're not joking, are you."

"No."

"I have to do _that_? That's the naked truth?"

"Wouldn't be the first time you've seen me naked…"

"I guess I ran into that one" Haruhi sighed in exasperation as she put her hand to her forehead. "And again with the blackmail. I suppose I'm in no position to haggle truce terms now."

"In all honesty, no. But come on, it'll be fun! We'll get you measured for your robe today and you can pick it up in the morning."

"Why me..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Cloak and Dagger**

**Chapter 3**

2013 is literally hours away and here I am ringing in the New Year with fanfiction. Ah, life is good. I'm really happy with how this chapter in particular turned out. I hope you can enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Oh, and thanks to HitaAndUtaPri and Rei Star for their reviews, be sure to follow their good example and write one yourself! Onward ho!

* * *

Haruhi had just delivered the cursed "Bereznoff" to Hikaru and Kaoru. The impish duo had been delighted of course, clueless though they were. Thank God no one else had been in the clubroom this late, if anyone had inquired as to where she was heading next it would have just made things worse.

Given the events that had transpired for her to acquire the trinket she sort of hoped the curses on the doll were real. Now on the trek down to the Black Magic Club's clubroom in the basement with Nekozawa, her mind cycling rapidly through possible worst-case-scenarios, it felt like the longest walk in recent memory for Haruhi. Partway she thought she'd at least make small talk with Nekozawa to take her mind off the eerie sense of foreboding.

"Nekozawa, what sort of business is your family most involved in again?"

"Firearms developing and maunufacturing."

Bad idea.

"In fact," he continued, oblivious to Haruhi's growing discomfort, "we own a very premium gun-shop back home that specializes in making refurbished M57 Zastava Tokarev autoloader handguns. Their slogan is 'When you get in firefight, only Tokarev will do right!' It didn't translate perfectly. As for the whole AK-47 versus M16 debate-"

Scratch being oblivious, Nekozawa was apparently on such a roll spouting off his knowledge about weaponry he just wasn't willing to stop anytime soon. Fortunately for Haruhi, being in close proximity to Tamaki so often meant she was adept at tuning things out. After letting her mind wander for a good bit on what she would make for dinner tonight and other such low-key thoughts, she checked to see if it was be safe to go back to reality.

"-but if it weren't for idiotic import-export laws on deadly devices we could have sold tens of thousands of units in the States alone. Damn Clinton administration…"

"Um, so does your family do anything _not_ related to killing people?"

"I suppose that our vodka and premium tobacco shares wouldn't interest you then."

"How do you sleep at night?"

"Usually on my side with one arm tucked beneath the pillow. Why?"

"Y'know, just forget I asked anything and I'll try to forget I heard anything."

"I see," he replied noncommittally, stopping in front of two imposing double doors.

"We're here already?" Haruhi blinked.

"It appears so, doesn't it? Well, it's time for you to get acquainted."

While he said so he gestured at the doors. As if driven by his summon they silently swung open before banging jarringly on the inner wall, attracting the attention of all four pairs of eyes inside like a creepy alarm system. Haruhi couldn't help but flinch; even though she sort of knew one of the other members of the Black Magic Club the atmosphere beckoning from inside was unnerving to say the least.

Still, fully drinking in her surroundings, Haruhi mused that it had a refined aura of an almost intoxicating charm. It was of a sort that seemed oddly reminiscent of the Host Club in some ways. That being said, Haruhi found it unlikely this club's leader was the cause, as sullen, somber Nekozawa was bubbly Tamaki's polar opposite.

As she wondered what it was that gave the room its air, the two other male members of the club were immersed in back issues of Occult Living Quarterly while lounging on two dusty recliners (much of the room was covered in a thin layer of dust, actually). Reiko and the other girl were in the middle of a game of chess using an ornate-looking ivory, black pearl, and ebony set.

"Haruhi, I believe some proper introductions are in order."

Haruhi snapped back to attention when she heard Nekozawa use her name.

"From left to right is Ken, Ryuya, Reiko, and Maaka. Everyone, I hope you'll be courteous to the newest member of our family."

"Intriguing…why a member of the Host Club?" Ken inquired. Haruhi was almost curious as to what cover story Nekozawa would give, the keyword still being "almost".

"I'm not going to lie; Mister Fujioka is rather indebted to me as of right now, and as you know he is perpetually poor in money. But rich in spirit, as the saying goes. So therefore Fujioka is going to be joining us whenever he can. Isn't that right?"

With that Nekozawa placed his hands on Haruhi's slim shoulders and leaned in close to her ear, sending a whirlwind of alarmed impulses through her nervous system.

"_The deal is done_," he whispered. "_You are one of us. Welcome to the Dark Broth_-er, the Black Magic Club. I have a pleasant surprise for you as a welcoming present."

"Thank GOD," she purposely mumbled into her hand as she feigned a yawn, not wanting them to sense her fear.

"Even though you will require robes, ritual books, fine clothes, and a do-it-yourself exorcism kit, which are naturally required to retain a dignified look and are all quite costly, you will receive them completely free. No strings attached."

_And that's your pleasant surprise? What's even the point of dressing up if you're going to supposedly cavort with spirits? I mean, they don't care how you look, they're DEAD!_

Haruhi dearly wanted to spit that back, refraining only because she felt terribly uneasy here.

"That's quite simple. By keeping up appearances, we not only show respect for the dead but our own spirits as well. It wouldn't do if the members of such a dignified club were all walking around disheveled and rundown, you agree?"

"Wait, you heard that?" Haruhi asked. She was positive she'd kept that contemplation internal.

"Oh, did I? I have my ways," he chuckled darkly, the other four members giggling along with him.

"_And I thought the Host Club was overwhelming…this is too freaking much…!_" Haruhi thought, hoping Nekozawa wasn't telepathically eavesdropping.

"Maaka, please get the measuring tape. And Ryuya, I trust you'll sew something perfect for our forgotten garden's freshly bloomed flower of the night?"

If melodrama were a drug, Nekozawa was a junkie.

Haruhi tired to think distracting thoughts as Maaka's fingers gingerly took her measurements while Ryuya looked on, no doubt thinking how girlish this strange boy from the Host Club looked.

"So Ryuya, you're the club tailor?"

"Eh, something like that," he replied nonchalantly. "I always liked sewing. It led to a lot of bullying in my old school, but I wouldn't trade the simple pleasures of needle and cloth for anything else. Well, except the dark arts."

"That almost sounded sweet except for the last part."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing! Just, uh…don't you find this environment depressing for you sometimes?"

"To destroy your darkest fears and anxieties you must be as one with them. What better way than to cloak yourself in literal shadow?" Nekozawa interjected. Haruhi was actually beginning to find his almost Shakespearean spiel kind of unintentionally funny.

"I'm done!" Maaka chimed. "My, Haruhi…for a boy you such a slender frame."

"Heh, yeah."

"Oh, I'm sorry! That wasn't supposed to be mean. I actually think you're kind of hot."

No matter how many times Haruhi heard words to that effect from girls, it still weirded her out a little.

"Thank you for your time today, Mister Fujioka. It's getting late, do you need a ride to your residence?" Nekozawa queried.

"Ohmigosh, my dad! I didn't tell him I'd be so late! Knowing him he's probably had at least a dozen panic attacks, eight flipouts, three tantrums-yes, I would really appreciate that right now!"

After Nekozawa led Haruhi briskly to their awaiting drive back, which for today was a BMW, he bowed apologetically and held the door open for her.

"I apologize; it was never my intention to give you greater headaches."

"No, it's my fault. I really can't believe I completely forgot to call him."

"I actually wasn't referring to your dad being worried, but I'm glad you've moved on. And forgive me for being presumptuous, but don't you have a cell phone? Can't you call him now?"

"I would but I don't want to become deaf in one ear from a hysterical string of questions. Better to face some things head-on, y'know?" Haruhi's said wistfully, her eyes glazing over as she entered Flashback Mode and remembered all the times her ever-protective dad had overreacted just a tad when worried about her.

"Haruhi…Haruhi! Snap out of it!" Nekozawa repeated while shaking her shoulders.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, were you talking to me?"

"No, I was talking to Haruhi Suzumiya over there. Of course I was talking to you! Do you need a ride home or not?"

"Yeah, I still do. Much appreciate it" Haruhi said sheepishly as she and Nekozawa got into the back of the awaiting BMW. This day just couldn't get any worse.

As the car pulled away, a pair of voices from somewhere on the third floor let out a cacophonous series of expletives, followed by a reverberating THUD.

The twins lay covered in a pile of splintered boards, mouse traps, and rusty farming implements that they had crashed into when they had opened the wrong closet looking for their coats. Kyoya had stashed them in said closet in preparation for his upcoming cosplay/decorating theme, "Pointlessly Dangerous Junk", without telling them.

"…Hikaru? Am I dead?"

"No, Kaoru," replied his dear brother as he clutched the fake Bereznoff in a vice grip. In the medley of pain it had split open, revealing it to be stuffed with dozens upon dozens of fortune-cookie-sized cursed slips of paper.

"But Nekozawa is."


	4. Chapter 4

**Cloak and Dagger**

**Chapter 4**

This chapter was born from a combination of feedback, hastily scribbled notes and ideas, insomnia, bordedom, and too much coffee. That being said, I really think it's my best entry in this story yet, although I do sincerely apologize if it also ended up being too short. I love Nekozawa, he's proven to be a challenging but fun character to write for. I'm about to pass out now, but I gladly do it all for you guys! Well, and my probably way too active fantasy life.

* * *

"_You did WHAT?! My little girl, out so late with a young man?!" _Ranka shrilled before daintily covering his mouth in shock.

"I got a ride home from one of my schoolmates. Just because he's a boy doesn't mean there's anything to get worked up about. I would have been even later if I hadn't taken it," Haruhi offered by way of rebuttal.

"Yes, well…I suppose there's no denying that. But next time _please_ call me if you know you're going to be so late."

Haruhi blinked in surprise and smiled, relieved. She had expected a lot worse. If she'd known her effeminate dad was going to take it this well she wouldn't have "forgotten" to keep her cell phone recharged.

"Fine," she reluctantly agreed. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. I'll start dinner." Rolling up her sleeves, she remembered halfway to the kitchen there was one important event she still needed to tell him.

"And uh, I sort of joined his club too."

"What sort of club? This is sudden," Ranka inquired, now suspicious again.

"I guess you could call it a quasi-religious interest group…or maybe anti-religious interest group, I'm still not quite sure."

"Religion? I always thought of you as quite the skeptic." Ranka no longer sounded suspicious, just curious as to what strange club this could be.

"All I think I know for sure is that I can't know anything for sure these days," she sighed lazily, wondering if her dad wouldn't mind leftovers tonight.

* * *

The next day, things were going anything but well. It turned out that Tamaki had tried to get hold of Haruhi while she had turned off her cell, and freaked out considerably even more than usual. And when earnest Haruhi explained why she had been preoccupied….

"_You did WHAT?! My precious daughter, out so late with Nekoazawa?!"_ Tamaki shrilled while furiously clawing at his head as if trying to gouge out the memory of what he had just heard.

"And uh, I sort of joined his club too," she stated, trying unsuccessfully to sound firm.

The argument screeched to a grinding halt as they all realized the implications of what she had just said. Tamaki then let out a comical little wheeze before passing out from shock and landing face-first on the hard marbled floor. An awkward moment passed, during which Haruhi was unsure whether to giggle and break the tension. She decided against it, preferring to spend the silence pondering if all those falls Tamkaki had taken on his head were responsible for his…uniqueness.

"Haru-chan?" Hunny squeaked. "Are you going emo on us?" Hunny, for his part, had stopped eating the cake he was stuffing his adorable face with the moment she had mentioned joined the ominous Black Magic Club.

"Haruhi, did you fully consider what you were getting yourself into?" Kyoya queried.

"…" Mori's ellipsis was more concerned than usual.

In any case even Kyoya and Mori looked remarkably surprised, in that the normally reserved duo looked surprised at all.

Haruhi counted her blessings that at least the twins weren't here. Lord knew they'd seize this opportunity to work their brand of mischief. She heard they died after getting horribly injured yesterday, or were spending the day recuperating in bed; she couldn't be expected to remember all the little details. At any rate, she still had the trump card she'd prepared just in case a fiasco like this happened.

"Look, I'm gonna be late for my first day of club duties with them if this keeps going on. You wouldn't want Nekozawa to get impatient?" She smiled inwardly, knowing that the threat of being cursed by Nekozawa was enough to shut most people up.

"Yes, you go do that. God help you with whatever you find yourself entangled in," Kyoya sighed while checking something off in his notebook ("Sign of the Apocalypse #1: Haruhi joins Black Magic Club").

"…" Mori said, wishing her luck.

"…mgfph…" Hunny said, mouth full of cake.

* * *

Down in the Black Magic Club's basement room, Haruhi had just finished changing into her uniform of sorts. Ryuya had done an amazing job following Maaka's measurements. The robe really did fit incredibly naturally, and looked quite flattering on Haruhi's slender frame. It consisted of exotic and unusual but exceedingly delicate fabrics in muted colours, a black leather belt trimmed with opals and lapis lazulis polished stunningly clear, and a thin silver chain around each cuff. Around the collar of the detachable hood was written **SI VIS PACEM PARA BELLUM**. The overall effect, no doubt intentional, was not unlike an ethereal ghost covered in delicately layered bindings.

"Is this is a boy's robe?" Haruhi whispered to Nekozawa, not like she cared. She almost felt like an outfit like this was too good to actually wear.

"But of course. We can't have the whole netherworld knowing your secret."

"I guess not…what do the letters around the collar signify? I mean, I'm an honour student, but they don't make much sense even to me."

"That might be because they're in Latin. It says 'If you seek peace prepare for war'."

"Um, okay?"

"Don't worry" Nekozawa laughed. "It's just a little in-joke. Not only is that phrase my personal motto, but it's also how the world's most popular handgun cartridge-"

"Here we go," Haruhi groaned.

"- the 9x19mm Parabellum, got its name. And as you know my family is heavily invested in…uh, Haruhi? Haruhi? Are you spacing out on me?! Hello in there-"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. Are you done talking?"

"Yes, but in the future try to not ask a question if you don't want to listen to the answer."

At this point Haruhi and Nekozawa realized they had been talking in a plainly audible tone of voice for some time.

"You two fight like brothers!" Ken laughed.

"No, more like lovers, don't you think?" Maaka offered.

Haruhi and Nekozawa both turned bright red, even if they weren't quite sure why.

"Or maybe both, like the Hitachiins," Reiko said.

"Oh yes, that reminds me" Nekozawa coughed, eager to change the subject. "I have to do something before I forget; it will only take a second. One moment please."

Nekozawa retreated to his shrine to Ba'al in the back of the room while everyone sans Haruhi looked on in wonder.

"What's he doing now?" Haruhi asked.

"He's putting a curse on someone," Ryuya replied, a mixture of awe and envy in his eyes as he watched the master at work.

* * *

Later that same day,Hikaru and Kaoru were lying motionless in their oversized futon, covered in casts and bandages. The barely audible drip of condensation collecting on the window from this damned rain was the only noise.

"Kaoru? Do you love me?" Hikaru croaked.

"Of course I do, bro." Kaoru said as he cracked a forced smile.

"Then will you do something for me?"

"Anything."

"Kill me before this gets any worse."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because then no one will be around to kill _me._"

"Wait, no. We can't focus our considerable energy, talent, and sexiness on unhealthy stuff like killing each other."

"What should we focus it on then?"

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

The devilish duo shared a sly glance.

"It's settled then," Hikaru nodded. He immediately regretted doing so, remembering after-the-fact that he still had a nasty case of whiplash.

"Nekozawa's a dead man. But first…"

"Yeah?"

"Will you scratch my left bicep? It's really itchy and I still can't move my other arm."

"Kaoru you idiot! Did you forget? I was only bitching about it all night!"

"What?! What'd I say?!" the other brother asked defensively.

"I still can't move _either_ of my arms!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Cloak and Dagger**

**Chapter 5**

A.N.: Wow, wrote this whole chapter in one morning. Coffee, where would I be without you? Thanks to Bisco Hatori, who obviously owns all rights to OHSHC, and you the reader, for your time.

* * *

The scene: Music Room Three, shortly after Haruhi had left to attend her _other_ club. The status: club services on hold until further notice. The reason: overreaction. Complete, sheer, utter, absolute overreaction. A case of mass hysteria localized to one man, if you will. At this point, with said clues, it should be self-evident who that man was.

"Tartarus sounds like toothpaste…who are you calling short…...dead sexy in a miniskirt…_BUTLER POWER_!" Tamaki was gurgling indecipherably in his fevered sleep.

"'Butler power?'" Kyoya wondered if what was left of the moron's mind had finally decided to call it quits. He scratched off something in his notebook ("Sign of the Apocalypse #2: Tamaki starts quoting Vic Mignogna").

"…" Mori approved. Or possibly disapproved, it was impossible to freaking tell, what with him being so silent this whole debacle. For his part, Hunny had been courteous enough to get Tamaki his Beary and a cushion from one of the couches for his bonked head…

"Don't worry Tama, I'm sure Haru-chan will be back okay!"

"N…N-…NEKOzaWAAAAAAAAAH!"

…Although it was still unclear whether the babbling blonde was lucid enough to appreciate it.

"Still, the Host Club's been through worse" Kyoya sighed. "Things will probably be back to normal next chapter."

Mori glared silently at him.

"Of our lives. The next chapter of our lives. It's a normal thing to say. And are you ever going to start talking?"

"…" Mori thought about what his response should be.

"Oh, for the love of-!" Kyoya snapped as he threw up his hands in disgust, severely exasperated but mostly bored. He might hate to admit it, but he did share one thing in common with the twins and Tamaki, and that was a complete lack of tolerance for anything uninteresting or tedious.

"I can only be pushed so much. I'm going home," he said while pacing rapidly to the exit. This ordeal couldn't be over and done with soon enough. "One of you make sure this idiot lying on the floor doesn't die overnight, or not, I can't care less about him anymore."

"…", Mori smirked. (Translation: then why do your fangirls think you two are such an item, eh?)

"I heard that!" Kyoya snarled as he slammed the door behind him.

* * *

"So what are we doing today exactly?" Haruhi asked after a drawn-out, anticlimactic moment when all of the possible macabre scenarios she was picturing failed to materialize. Evidently the Black Magic Club was like most other clubs in that half the time they just sat around waiting for something interesting to come to them.

"Honestly I'm quite unsure," Nekozawa mused. "I never expected 'Operation: Secure Fujioka as a Member' to go off so well."

"I beg your pardon?" she blinked.

"I mean, I never expected us to have so much free time after you tried on your outfit."

"I'm pretty sure that's not what you-"

"_Anyhow_, you're absolutely right. There's no excuse for us to sit around twiddling our thumbs with so much arcane majesty at our disposal! So who's up for a game of Hungry Hungry Hippos?"

Nekozawa awaited a reply but alas, nothing was forthcoming.

"Hmm? Are you talking to someone?" Haruhi asked. She had become bored herself and had seated herself down, flipping through a spare copy of the Necronomicon. "They all left a while back, something about needing to pick up more tincture of mandrake."

"My, I'm bad at noticing these things.

"Apparently."

"…"

"…"

"Heh, I probably shouldn't bring it up but does it feel awkward in here to you too?"

"Yeah, actually. Do you still need me around?"

"Why of course. I can use an extra pair of hands to help with getting the bloodstains off of this altar cloth. I'd appreciate if you didn't ask about that, it's a long story."

Haruhi dearly hoped he was just trying to frighten the new kid.

"Oh, would you care for a drink?" he asked as he wandered over to a mini-fridge buried beneath a volume of scrolls.

"Maybe. Do I want to know what's on the menu?" Haruhi shuddered, thinking of all the bizarre stuff the Black Magic Club probably had bottled.

"Melon soda or ginger ale good with you?"

"Either one," she answered while breathing a sigh of relief.

"Melon soda it is," he said while cracking open a can. There was a deliberate pause before he spoke again.

"Say Haruhi…this isn't meant to sound invasive, but I was wondering. And let me make it clear I will not think one iota less of you if you say yes. But I was just wondering, since you're a girl, pretending to be a guy…"

"Uh-huh?" Haruhi didn't like where this was going.

"And since you're a member of the Host Club…I'll just say it. Are you a lesbian?"

Somewhere far away the Zuka club thought they heard their names being called.

"Well screw you too, Nekozawa," she shot back.

"I'm sorry! You're right, that was just way, way too personal. I don't know what I was thinking. Please, forgive me."

"I'm _not_, by the way."

"Oh." Now he was puzzled. "Then why-"

"It's because I'm quite literally indebted to the Host Club. I really don't feel like talking about it at the moment."

"Please, accept my apologies."

"No, I'll… tell you later. I guess I'm just a little sensitive about my sexuality because of my dad."

"Daddy issues? Oh man, here we go," Nekozawa said, luckily for him just under an audible level. Unluckily for him, Nekozawa was nowhere near Haruhi's level of expertise at tuning out awkward moments and he heard the next sentence clear as day.

"He's a bi crossdresser. As a matter of fact he works at a gay bar."

"I…see." ("Did I just hear that right?")

"I don't have a problem with it myself, I love my dad, but I've had to endure a fair bit of jeering about it from other people. On the plus side that might be why I can endure the craziness that seems to follow me everywhere."

"Well, that's at least one good thing you can claim as a direct result," he said shakily. ("Oh, please change the subject to something, anything else! I'll talk about the time I got drunk and threw up in my cousin's Porsche, just not this!")

Nekozawa held absolutely nothing against gay people, or bi as the case may be, nevertheless he couldn't help feeling like he was on very unfamiliar ground here. But what he heard next was the death sentence.

"Heh, I guess it is. I'm sorry I was so touchy at first, I've enjoyed talking to you about this. Nekozawa, you don't strike me as like other boys. You're actually just as easy to talk to as one of my girlfriends."

Nekozawa's face turned even whiter, ratcheted all the way up from "Pale" to "Coma Victim". Speaking of which, Nekozawa looked like he was about to keel over.

"Um, Nekozawa? Is something wrong?"

"…" ("…")

Somewhere far away Mori sensed someone was stealing his trademark ellipsis.

"Oh, I didn't mean I thought _you_ were gay!" she rapidly tried to clarify. "I just meant I thought you were so empathetic-"

It was too little, too late. Nekozawa at last lost his balance, fainting and landing square on top of Haruhi in her chair. It marked just the most recent time she'd been accidentally pinned under a male. Which made it what, a week and a half since the last? Luckily for the both of them he came to a few seconds later.

"I-I'm so sorry!" he stammered, face now flushed.

"It's alright. You're not that heavy for your height. Urgh, how could this get any more awkward?" she laughed.

Looking over his shoulder she saw the rest of their club, returned from their shopping expedition.

"That'll do."


	6. Chapter 6

**Cloak and Dagger**

**Chapter 6**

The actors: young male Umethito Nekozawa and his underclassman, teenaged (fe)male Haruhi Fujioka. The play: our unlucky duo has been caught in a common clichéd manga/anime compromising position. The audience: none other than their fellow clubmates. The responses of those in the clubroom to the uh, "entanglement" unfolding before them were quite varied to say the least.

Reiko's repressed inner yaoi fangirl was causing her to blush slightly ("This is a normal reaction, right? I mean any girl my age would find two men hot? Right?").

Maaka's..._much_ less subtle, outer, yaoi fangirl was causing her to blush furiously as she fumbled in her pockets for her cameraphone, the better to have yummy material to drool over later ("What are you two waiting for?! Don't mind us, just KISS! **JUST %$# ING KISS ALREADY!** _MY LAPTOP NEEDS NEW WALLPAPER DAMMIT!_").

Ken had a good sense of humor about it and looked like he was about to explode laughing ("Heh, I thought he had a covert reason for recruiting him. Never woulda guessed it was because...well, there's nothing wrong with that.").

Poor, poor, and very squeamish and hetero Ryuya was partially in a state of shock and getting worse ("I wonder if they could reattach my eyes later if I gouged them out quickly enough...").

For her part Haruhi, as always, remained unaffected ("Okay, he can get off me any time now.").

Nekozawa was following the normal chain of thinking any straight male would follow when in his situation ("Kill myself or flee to a remote continent and assume a new identity? Well, Antarctica _is_ nice this time of year...").

Realizing time was still ticking and he was more importantly still on top of Haruhi, in a heroic act of mind over matter Nekozawa actually managed to remove himself from her. But not very heroically he then flopped straight onto the floor like the jellyfish he felt like at the moment. And, again in an unusually undignified manner for him, he next began babbling out an attempted explanation which left a lot more questions than answers.

"-sowewerejusthuggingandwetrippednoImeanwewereboth havingateapartyandwestartedmakingoutnosorrywhatIme anttosayisHaruhicouldn'tresistmysexinessandwaitbut Iwasontopofherthinkdammitthinkokayhowaboutohtohell withitallthislooksqueerineverysenseandnowyouallthi nkwe'rebothgayand-"

"Nekozawa,it's okay..." Reiko said at last.

"Yeah, sorry I freaked out there man-" Ryuya added.

"-we just had no idea. Right? Right, all?" Ken interjected gently.

"Right." Ryuya agreed, nodding along with the rest.

"I think it's time for a group hug!" Maaka cheered as she glomped Nekozawa, shoving Haruhi aside.

Haruhi couldn't believe these idiots. "Um, guys-"

"It's alright Haruhi, we already knew about you," Maaka interrupted. "I mean, you're in the freaking _Host Club_."

As the rest of his friends swarmed around/over him, offering hugs and words of support, a singular thought scrolled through Nekozawa's mind like a flickering message on a broken electronic billboard: "...Please just kill me now."

* * *

Umehito was completely alone in his bedroom, the door closed shut, his wig and cloak discarded and thrown upon a nearby credenza. The rest of his clothes were all piled unceremoniously there too, but certainly not because he was doing something pervy all by himself right now. Nekozawa was at heart rather uninterested on most matters of sexuality and the reason he was currently naked was a bit more innocent than anything like that. It was simply because he was still so humiliated by the day's events that even his normally chalk-pale skin had taken on a sunburned hue. Basically he was feeling so flushed he had taken of every article of attire (yes, even Bereznoff) the moment he had retreated into his room, and hadn't even bothered locking the door to preserve what was left of his modesty.

He was lying flat on his smooth, well-toned stomach upon his canopy bed. His fingertips frantically raced up and down, up and down, running over and over through his locks of flowing blond hair. His handsome face, with its normal leer twisted into an expression of mortification and disbelief was itself buried in his big, poofy, Egyptian cotton pillowcase. Needless to say his lights were all off, although it would have actually been much worse if Nekozawa had been exposed to a light that was turned on while in his current state. He often wondered half-seriously why the electrician hadn't just skipped his room while they were wiring this place.

"Worst...day...evvvver..." he moaned as he shifted onto his back, staring at the covering of his canopy bed.

"Umehito-chan? Honey?" A knock at the door corresponding with his mother's worried voice reminded him that apparently even in your personal Hell other people still tried to stick their nose in your freakin' business.

"_Whatever, I must have been in here by myself for a few hours now, any more and I'll start getting weird_," he reasoned. "Yes, you can come in mo-"

Oh right. No clothes. Lying on his bed, in the dark. That would look pretty bad.

"-waitnoNOGODNO! I'm uh, reading! Yeah, so you can't come in!"

"'Reading?'"

"Yes. Yes, just give me a second!"

"Neko, you're acting awfully strange. I'm coming in, okay?"

"PLEASEMOMNO!"

_Click-turrrrrrrrrn-_

Too late. The only small comfort Nekozawa could take in this latest of a rapdily growing string of humiliations was that _he_ knew he hadn't been doing something rather unseemly with himself for hours in his spacious bed. He hadn't even had time to move from his splayed position when his poor mother had flung the door open. As for the four unlucky(?), awestruck young serving maids at his mother's sides...well, their policy with seeing their young master in a naughty pose was apparently best summed up as "No shirt, no shoes, no problem."

The door slammed shut as abruptly as it had opened. At this point he almost didn't care what life could throw at him next. It wasn't long before he spoke again.

"Yeah...worst...day...evvvvvvvv-_aaughh_, what next..."

* * *

The next day classes were over, Host Club was over, and Haruhi was on her way to her other club duties. Surprisingly Nekozawa was the only one in the club room when she got there. He was seated on one of the omnipresent recliners, liberally applying crimson paint to an aged voodoo doll.

"Heya. Oh yeah, I'm the only one here right now."

"...dare I ask?"

"They're all off buying something for a big surprise, and they're all giggly about it. I could take a good guess what it's about but I'm going to pretend I can't just to preserve my own sanity."

"Okay then. Anything else happen to you that's been interesting lately?"

"Sort of. My parents took away my internet privileges."

"...dare I ask?"

"Please don't."

"Anyhow, the other guys, by whom I mean the other hosts of course, they seem pretty cool with the whole Black Magic stuff."

"Just like Stockholm Syndrome."

"Heh, exactly."

"Yo, queerios!" Both recognized the voice as Ken's.

"Oh no-" they said in sync as they slowly turned in place and were greeted by a face-palm-inducing sight.


	7. Chapter 7

**Cloak and Dagger**

**Chapter 7**

To quote that lovable, kleptomaniac robot Bender, "Bonjour y'all!" Sorry if the last chapter was a teensy tad off-colour, I wrote it in a hurry and when I do that the weird side of my brain takes control. Haha! Who am I trying to kid, it's always in control. Anyway, I wanted to experiment and switch things up a bit. So this chapter will partially be from Haruhi and the other club member's points of view, both to challenge me as a writer and see what they all think of the events so far. Enjoy. And yes, I wrote Reiko's poem.

* * *

Haruhi gazed at the objects the other Black Magic Club members had now spread out before them on the table. What she felt was a curious mixture of shared embarrassment for Nekozawa and an (unusual for her) amount of stifled, girlish gigglishness.

Apparently Maaka had managed to take that picture of Haruhi and Nekozawa because it was in a well-polished silver frame blown up to the point of maximum fangirly-potentiality. She had expertly retouched it with overlaid digital roses, Photoshopped images of the two wherein it looked like they were holding hands, and other such junk to the point it could pass as the cover of a live-action shonen-ai adaptation DVD box set. (Haruhi wasn't into that stuff herself, but that time she had explored her father's sock drawer as a little girl had taught her some things about how men can express affection to each other...and a few other things she was probably much too young to have known about at the time).

Reiko's coming-out present was actually rather tasteful by comparison, or in Haruhi's eyes at least much less cheesy anyway. It was a simple piece of black, gold-bordered stationary with a love poem she must have composed herself written upon it in impeccable calligraphy.

_Origins of all emotions, honour-bound and yielding to the heavenly skies_

_Teasing but meaning all that came before, while you both laugh together as time flies_

_Hand in hand, heart to heart, you both walk closer to your shared destiny_

_Struggles and travails you will have, trials be what they be_

_Know that you have each other as you approach to where it all begins_

_Never will there be another, arm in arm, soul to soul, him and him_

Ryuya's present was simple as well, and while it had probably taken little time to make a lot of heart had obviously gone into it. It was simply a dry mounted print on a charcoal background, surprisingly of him and Nekozawa from their middle school days, smiling for the camera with the embossed caption "_Friends through it All_".

And courtesy of Ken, who was something of a talented gourmet, there was an elaborate ice cream and fruit parfait (Haruhi doubted the ludicrous amount of fruit thrown in was an unintentional pun) inside a Swarovski crystal goblet complete with one of those patronizing little "CHEERS TO QUEERS" miniature cocktail umbrellas you could buy at novelty shops.

"Guys, I know you meant well, but-" Nekozawa started only to give up, settle back down in his recliner and resume wishing these past few days could have had a Reset option.

"Whatever. This is pretty good," Haruhi said as she tried a bite of the parfait. The inner foodie in her had just found it impossible to resist.

Maaka turned to face Haruhi, eyes burning with some unrecognizable emotion.

"_Oh crap, this was meant for him," _she internally chastised herself.

"Haruuuuuhi..." Maaka droned.

"Y-yeah?"

"**Ohmigosh you just have to feed some of that yumminess to Nekozawa!**"

"I guess that'd be alright." Haruhi blushed a little at the thought. But for crying out loud! She'd already kissed another girl on the lips during the Christmas party, so feeding a boy a scoop of ice cream was downright tame by comparison.

"And then you simply just have to have a hot and heavy makeout session while wearing nothing but lingerie!"

"Uh..." This was getting weird. Make that nauseating. Haruhi had always wondered why men could be such perverts. Heck, she could name a few she knew offhand right now. But now she knew why, it wasn't that men were perverts _per se_, it was that the female gender's entire collective deviancy had been condensed into one teenage girl.

"And then you both start up some kinky roleplay! Oh, I think the nurse's office has a bed!" And that girl's name was Maaka.

"**Wait, WHAT?!**"

"And don't forget to tape it! And next you two start licking icing sugar off each other's d-"

"Woah there girl, we wanna keep this scene PG13!" Ken grunted as he grabbed Maaka's spazzing, flailing arms from behind. "You have _got_ to get a boyfriend."

Nekozawa looked to Reiko for help, but what she said next floored him.

"I see no problem with Haruhi merely feeding you a spoonful of ice cream," she practically swooned while failing to conceal an obvious blush and smile with her hands.

"_Great, all this time around Maaka has finally started wearing off on you...am I partially to blame for that?_"

"Er, do I have to watch?" Ryuya asked nervously.

"Pfft. Of course you do!" Ken declared simply as he released Maaka, who had finally returned to a calm level. Well, calm enough for her anyway.

Nekozawa sighed. "Eh, who am I kidding. I know I'd enjoy this." He'd meant to say that in his head, not like it really mattered at this point. "Fine, I'll do it."

It was literally short and sweet. Haruhi true to her practical nature fed him a spoonful of the French vanilla confection like she had practiced during her many hours babysitting toddlers for friends and neighbours. (She resisted making a comment on how men were basically less-cute versions of toddlers with a penchant for macho things and violence.)

THUD

Everyone cocked their heads in Maaka's direction. She was gone.

"What on Earth?" Reiko said.

"Did she teleport?!" Ryuya said before he could really think about what he had implied.

"Don't be stupid!" Ken yelled at him.

"What was that sound?" Haruhi asked as she looked at the double-doors. Yep, they were still closed.

"Uh, guys?," Nekozawa coughed. "Look down."

Following his advice they tilted their heads down and were greeted by the sight of Maaka lying splayed back on the floor. She had a rather undignified expression on her face, formed from a combination of a vacant smile, dizzy eyes, and a tiny bit of fangirl drool.

Ryuya, who had experience in medical matters from a passing interest in his family's biochemical holdings, knelt down to take a look at her. After counting her pulse to his watch for a minute he finally announced his diagnosis.

"I think she's in a coma." He declared in an inappropriately unalarmed tone of voice.

"WHAT?" everyone screamed in horror.

"Sorry, sorry, I meant to say passed out and she'll wake up in about a couple of hours. I guess seeing one of her infamous yaoi fantasies actually acted out in real life was too much for her. Her pulse is erratic though...huh, she must be having some odd dreams. Poor girl."

"Yeah, I'll be wearing to bet that girl has some _odd dreams_ most every night!" Nekozawa grumbled. Still, he was secretly grateful her perverseness had finally proven useful. Through this whole debacle he had actually gotten closer to Haruhi.

Wait...why on Earth did that make him so jubilant inside? He wasn't falling in love, was he? He was Ouran's Shadow Prince, he couldn't be in love!

"Could I?" He whispered softly as he gazed into Haruhi's unyielding, iron-willed eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Cloak and Dagger**

**Chapter 8**

So like, wow. Three chapters in four days! That's gotta set a new record in something. Probably in "not having a life". Anyway, this chapter again deals with some of our other favourite familiar characters, although it will still as always be Neko-centric. He's got everything you need in a male shojo lead: looks, allure, charm, sex appeal...alright, I'll stop my fanboy rant now.

* * *

The Hitachiin brothers huddled outside the Black Magic Club's foreboding double doors. They were clad in the camouflage gear that forward recon elements in the Japanese Ground Self-Defence Force wore, for a reason known only to them. If they were spotted their military get-ups would only make it more obvious they were up to no good.

"This is Doppleganger, come in, over" Kaoru hissed into his walkie-talkie even though his brother was right in front of him.

"Doppleganger, this is Mirror Image, reporting in," Hikaru grinned into own radio. "I can hear you live and clear from my end. The scouting mission was a success and the enemy camp has been infiltrated. While I was in there, one of the enemy's most fanatical combatants, codename 'Otakumageddon' was in danger of spotting me so I had to neutralize her."

As he said so he gestured at a military-grade tranquilizer pistol and thumbed in the direction of Maaka's zonked-out form through the periscope lens they had inserted under the doors. "Should we return to base camp and report what we've learned to Alpha Dog?"

"You mean go back to Music Room #3 and tell what we scrounged up to Lord Loser?" Kaoru rolled his eyes at his brother while he adjusted his itchy chinstrap, not bothering to use the headset.

"Hey, what'd I tell you? We have to use the radio comlinks! It's more fun that way!"

"Who asked you? Why are we even sneaking around like we should be scared of 'em? We probably could have just gone in there, beat the stuffing out of Nekozawa while the rest of his club looked on helplessly and been done with it!"

"Four things, my dearest brother. One: Haruhi would hate us forever if we pulled something like that. Two: this is exactly why no one ever asks for your opinion. Ever. Three: shut up. And four..." Hikaru's eyes got all glisteny while he spoke as was known for doing, "...we used to play army men all the time when we were kids. We had so much fun together, remember?"

"Yeah, except for the time one of our Bradley IFVs flattened Grandma's flower bed."

"I suppose we did get yelled at pretty bad."

"There was that other occasion you wanted to see if Sprut anti-tank cannons could be used for anti-aircraft purposes."

"Well in my defense we know the answer is yes now, don't we?!"

"And that one incident involving the American Embassy and a cruise missile."

"It's not my fault they had no sense of humour about it and surprisingly lax missile-jamming defence systems!"

"Fine, be that way. Let's just head back. I never thought I'd say this but I'm sick of playing a game for once."

Back in the Host Club Kyoya wheezed in disbelief to nobody in particular. "Am I the only one mildly concerned that it may look bad if these two are seen wearing military gear in a _school setting?_ Yes? Okay then."

As Kyoya said so he sketched a bisected skull onto his clipboard with his favourite gilded pen. (Macabre illustrations were actually what he always drew on his clipboard as a form of Gestalt therapy. It was the dark secret of how he was always able to maintain his cool to onlookers, why he always had it with him, and most importantly why he never showed his "business-related profit extrapolations" to anyone, _ever_.)

"So, what'd you learn?" Tamaki asked the duo with rapt attention.

"Well boss...uh..." the twins answered in perfect alignment, even timing their pauses together.

"Okay, since I take it the news is pretty bad why don't you just give me the most upsetting piece first?"

Both brothers looked at each other nervously before giving a "what the Hell" shrug and beginning to say, "For some reason Haruhi was spoon-feeding Nekozawa a scoop of ice crea-"

THUD

"Bro, did you just hit with the tranquilizer too?" Kaoru asked in surprise.

"No, but I think the news _floored_ him!" Hikaru giggled.

"I should murder you where you stand for that atrocious pun..."

"Aren't I the greatest?"

"If you both can kindly shut the hell up for two mother%$#&ing seconds**" **Kyoya began in a controlled tone of voice (although it was dead obvious from the fact he almost never swore that he was anything but calm). "Thank you. Now, the obvious question is did it look romantic in nature?"

"It's a possibility," the twins surmised. "But from what we saw it looked more to us like the club was egging them on to do it."

"You _could_ have mentioned that earlier," Kyoya said, glancing at Tamaki's body which had curled up into a fetal position immediately after he had faceplanted onto the marble floor.

"Yeah, well then...uh...well you _could_ have opted not to sign up for that botched experiment in nano-machine hormone replacements. Remember? The one that ended up leaving you with an IQ of 220 but almost no emotions to speak of?" Kaoru retorted as his brother nodded and smirked.

"That has virtually nothing to do with anything you walking social liability! It happened years before I had the misfortune of meeting you, I was twelve. And how on Earth do you keep finding out about all these discontinued corporate projects I was involved in?! Until now I thought that was top secret, thanks a ton for the low blow."

"Guys, stop bickering, there's a more important question at this juncture that remains unanswered" Hunny mused with an awfully unusual amount of seriousness for him.

Everyone waited to see what the shrimpy 3rd year would speak of.

"What _flavour_ ice cream?"

Now it was everyone, even Mori's, turn to make friends with the ground as they fell over in disbelief. Only ever-dignified Kyoya remained standing.

"Seriously?" he asked rhetorically as he shaded in a rather violent cartoon involving a psychotic midget and a demonically possessed cake.

* * *

Maaka was laid out on one of the maroon couches with several altar cloths serving as improvised blankets draped over her still body. Ryuya was administering to her while the rest of the club just sort of sat there, chairs in a circle. Ken was absent; he had been sent by Nekozawa to "borrow" a laundry list of medical supplies from the nurses' office. Hey, you never knew when you might need fifty feet of gauze bandages. Everyone else was bored silly, but they just remained sitting like a party would spontaneously pop into existence.

"I still think my earlier suggestion of Hungry Hungry Hippos was valid," Nekozawa complained.

No one even bothered to shoot back a retort; they were all simply so apathetic by now. By now it was the unspoken consensus that they would just wait here until club time was up, pack up their bags, and go home.

"Mr. President?"

"Yes, Ryuya? What is it?"

"I may have delivered a misdiagnosis on my original pronouncement. It doesn't look like Maaka passed out naturally at all."

Nekozawa frowned as he stood up and flitted over to the makeshift infirmary. "What do you mean exactly?"

Ryuya held up the miniscule tranquilizer dart he had extracted from her neck.

"I see..."

"What do you think this means, Mr. President?"

Nekozawa leered a sadistically brutal grin that could have given Satan nightmares. "I think it means the Host Club has bitten off a good deal more than they had prepared themselves for. It's on now, Tamaki."

He paused to chortle darkly, eyes gleaming with the promise of chaos and mayhem. Even Haruhi and his own friends were petrified. They were positive they could now distinctly hear disembodied voices giggling and cackling along with Nekozawa like he was calling the spirits of the damned to him. (The funny thing about that is he sort of was, actually, but that's another story entirely.)

"It's on indeed. I hope you are prepared for the wrath of the Shadow Prince..." he groaned in dark ecstasy.

"Mr. President?," Ken poked his head through the door. "I couldn't find what you asked for but I did figure one stimulant is good as the next, so I swiped a buncha-wooooah. I guess I'll come back later."

"God dammit Ken!" Nekozawa shrieked. "You always interrupt me when I'm summoning lost souls! They can be very shy around strangers, you know that?!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Cloak and Dagger**

**Chapter 9**

Let me start off by giving a huge shout-out to every reader who has followed the story up to this point, especially those who have been kind enough to review. I'm thinking specifically of Semoka, luxartisan, Littlecosma001, , Ikarianni, LittleLiar666, KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun, Melissa, Opinr, Lucyole, Rei-Star, Hita-chan, and you anonymous guests too! All of your encouraging words and constructive criticisms are huge motivators for me to continue with this.

There are two things that I'd like to start off with right off the bat. Sorry if this chapter is kinda depressing, I promise the story will never get darker than this chapter goes. Sorry too if Ranka seems like a total jerk to his daughter here, I actually really like his character and think he really cares for Haruhi. Next chapter will explain his behaviour. And so begins part nine...

* * *

It was now much later that night and our exhausted heroine Haruhi (remember her?) was shuffling home. After what seemed like an aeon, probably due to the slow pace and her worn-out state of mind she made it back to her neighbourhood and trudged up the stairs to where she lived with her dad. Well, imagine her surprise when she fumbled in her pocket for her keys and the door opened of its own volition. Standing in the streaming light coming out of the modest apartment, she was greeted by the sight of none other than her partner in cross-dressing crime: her aforementioned father Ranka.

Always-astute Haruhi could tell the expression on his face was indicating one part anger, one part betrayal, one part deep-rooted anxiety, .0005% parts unable to believe they'd run out of Minute Maid orange juice last night, but most importantly of all five million-billion-jillion parts indicated concern. And there was only one thing easy-going, hard-partying Ranka ever truly held in concern: his teenage daughter. She was precious to him, dearly and to the highest degree, in the way children never understood until they became parents themselves. His eyes now made it clear all wasn't right with his world.

Haruhi was seriously confuzzled, and her brain started trying to figure this one out. She wasn't late, even if it was unusually dark out for this time of night. She looked down at herself and yep, she wasn't dirty or bearing any obvious cuts or scrapes (her dad used to get freaked out over something as little as a kitty scratching her). She didn't think she'd been acting weird around him lately, and as always her grades has been impeccable. Now it was Haruhi's turn to worry. What could have provoked this bizarre greeting?

"Come in," Ranka said, breaking the silence at last. Haruhi obeyed and made her way inside. He seated himself at the kotatsu and gestured that she should do the same. Again Haruhi complied. After an unbearable pause he clawed a hand frantically through his long, silky, hair, entwining the frays of his ponytail as he did so.

"I...don't know how I should start asking you about this," he said, obviously trying not to hyperventilate before closing his eyes for a spell and collecting himself. "Do you need something to drink first?"

"No. I'm getting a little freaked out though. Dad, is there something going on?"

"But first you have to tell me, are you pregnant?

"_WHAT?!_"

"Oh thank God. I just...wow, okay. I was getting worried about that. So then please, please for the love of my sanity tell me you've been using protection when providing sexual favours to these...," he looked up quizzically, hoping she would finish the sentence for him. Haruhi however, was shocked speechless. Not to mention her eyes were the size of appetizer plates.

"Well, you'll have to bear with me, but I don't know. Is it men or women you've been servicing?" Ranka queried.

Make that dinner plates.

"...Or both? Is it both? It's both isn't it?"

Haruhi's eyes and fingers suddenly twitched like she were being electrocuted, and she sort of wished someone would do just that to her father right now.

"**HAVE YOU GONE OUT OF YOUR MIND?!**" she exploded as she picked up the kotatsu and flipped it over, setting off Richter scales miles away. Her father along with several small objects unfortunate enough to be nearby were also knocked prone, although whether from the sudden uprooting of the kotatsu, Haruhi's response being so cacophonous, or the terrifying nature of the dread creature that some in the Host Club had nicknamed "Demon Lord #2" was anyone's guess.

"Y-you havvve n-noo right t-to get an-*wheeze*-gry w-w-with me-eee y-young ladyyyy!" Ranka said back in a comically dazed tone of voice as he tried to pick himself back up, not used to being at the epicentre of a nuclear blast.

Soon though there was a zealous fire in his eyes, although he probably didn't intend for what he said next to have the effect it ended up having. "Just because you're biologically a grown woman doesn't at all change the fact that you're still a child in my eyes who still has to live by the rules of this house, _and I say no whoring yourself around!_"

"...what."

"_I said no wh_-"

Before Ranka could finish the word Haruhi had jumped on his chest, both knocking the wind out of him and as she did so adding injury to injury, driving a well-placed knee into a rather sensitive part of his body. Before he could even completely make sense of what had happened she then pinned both of his arms to the floor in an unrelenting grip.

"_**You were saying something about me being a whore, DAD?! Funny, I don't recall being the reason our computer's search history has so many filthy words in it that it looks like a swear battle between two 12-year old boys!"**_

"_We can *gasp* talk about that later!" _

"_**I had to stop using Google at home because I felt like puking at half the %$&#ing stuff that came up!"**_

"_Honey, you're knee's crushing my-_"

"_**Don't 'honey' me!"**_ she spat with indignant rage. _**"Do you have any idea how much you've hurt me by even suggesting I would want to do something so slutty with my body?!" **_

Finally she released his arms from her hawk-like grasp and stood up off his chest, but not before delivering one final kick to his male region. As Ranka lay there on the floor in abject agony, Haruhi was still the one feeling the most pain. She had always prided herself on her own modesty, what he had just accused her of went far beyond physical hurt.

"Dad, I'm going to bed now, in all honesty probably to cry into my pillow for a few hours before I fall asleep and have some seriously emo dreams. And if you follow me into my room, or try to talk softly to me through the door, I will murder you and fake your death so it looks like you got stabbed trying to kidnap injured puppies from a blind vet so you could set them on fire as a distraction while you robbed an orphanage." She didn't sound like she was joking. (And for the record she wasn't.)

"Haruhi, just one thing," her groaning father whispered as he stayed huddled by the upside-down kotatsu with both hands on his wounded crotch.

"Make it quick," she snapped.

"I take it now you honestly didn't have a clue what I was talking about...but how come...oh _dammit! That's _why! Haha, I'm a moron..."

"You're right about me not having a clue why you called me a prostitute and you're right about you being a moron too, and I'm too hurt right now to care about either at the moment. We can talk about it in the morning."

"But..._owowow, #$% , my nads_...but Haruhi!"

"_Goodnight_, dad," she said as she slammed the door closed.

"But my bed's in there too..."


	10. Chapter 10

**Cloak and Dagger**

**Chapter 10**

Woohoo, the first double-digit chapter is here. I'm really glad that you guys didn't seem to mind the abrupt shift in tone the last chapter had, but it's back to light'n'fluffy! I just thought it was about time I started introducing the plot. That's right, this fanfic does actually have a plot, which will (hopefully) begin unfolding now. And as promised this chapter will explain Ranka's somewhat puzzling previous words and actions. And sorry if Ranka comes off as a total perv here, again I really do actually like his character. I honestly think I was just channeling myself. *sweatdrop* That's no excuse for making someone act pervy, I know. Oh, and "chunkylover53 aol" is Homer Simpson's email address, I just felt like reusing it as the anonymous sender's 'cause it makes me laugh. Press any key to continue.

* * *

Haruhi awoke to her buzzing alarm, still dressed in her clothing from the previous day. She coughed twice, she was thirsty as all heck first thing in the morning. Yawning heavily as she lurched to her feet, she noted with approval her father hadn't tried sneaking in while she was asleep.

She stretched out her thin, sleek, famously androgynous frame and groggily staggered over to the sliding door. Opening it, she made her way to the kitchen for a glass of milk and Haruhi was greeted by Ranka sitting at the kitchen table. Breakfast was already prepared for the both of them and it looked he had just begun digging in minutes earlier.

"Morning honey", he smiled weakly as he clacked his chopsticks in his right hand as a made-up greeting.

"Morning", she replied in surprise. He almost never made breakfast lately, and she was guessing this was probably his way of apologizing to her about last night. Last night...

Her eyes narrowed sharply. Oh yeah, the alleged prostitution incident.

Ranka looked uneasy at the way his daughter was examining him, and he subconsciously moved his left hand to shield his junk. Let's just say Haruhi had hit him (or was "annihilated" the better word?) _down there_ so hard the previous night that if he were still married to Kyoko, Haruhi wouldn't have to worry about any new siblings for a very long time.

"Uh, won't you have some breakfast?" he said at last, dearly hoping this too would not end with another crotch-stomping occurrence.

"Relax dad, I'm feeling a lot better today. I always do after a good night's sleep," she said, looking around quizzically as she sat across from him and peeled apart her wooden chopsticks. "By the way, where'd you sleep?"

"On the couch. Ah, if I had 5 yen for every time your mother made me do that after I coerced her to do something really kinky and she didn't enjoy it too and did I just say that last part out loud oh $#% ..." Ranka trailed off of his run-on sentence as he facepalmed.

Haruhi's jaw dropped, her eyes taking on a horrified glint as she nearly choked on the pickle slice she had been munching on.

"EWWWWWWW!" she screamed after a short pause, very justifiably given what she'd just heard. "_You got MOM to do WHAT exactly?! _Wait, wait, don't...just don't answer that, knowing your tastes in magazines I could probably guess pretty well, not that I'd _ever_ want to know. Between that little slip-up and yesterday's atrocity my respect for you is now practically zilch. Anyway, I'm trying to eat here; can we please talk about anything else?"

"Wait, you know about those magazines?!" Ranka was typically an all-around good father, he truly was, and as any good father should he was diligent in protecting his daughter fervently from anything that could potentially corrupt her morals. But he had really dropped the ball on this one. "I thought I hid-"

"Remember that time you sent me to get the mail and I came back all shaken and told you to go get it yourself?"

Face, meet palm. "I guess it's about time I recognized I'm the actual deviant in this house," he deflated. He wondered why oh why a daughter as beautiful and perfect as his was cursed to have a horndog fruitcake like him as her father.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you!"

"Maybe I should just shut my mouth."

"Actually, maybe you should."

They finished their breakfast in profoundly awkward silence. If there's one thing every parent fears on one level or another it's having their kid find out about their little kinks and quirks, romantic or otherwise. The same is true in reverse for their kids of course. But a lot of children additionally fear discovering something else: anything that disrupts the illusion they hold that their parents aren't sexual beings, every bit as much as they are themselves.

Haruhi had long ago readily accepted Ranka's alternative orientation and loved him through everything he did and all he was, as she should have, even when a few of his falser friends and disgustingly enough some of his own family went into denial or rejected him simply because he was honest enough to admit to the world that he was a little different. But it's another thing entirely to accept that your own dad is into stuff that would make Freud's face turn crimson.

"So then...I take it you want to see what last night was about."

"Yes, actually. Wait. What do you mean 'see'?"

"Come over here and I'll show you," he said as he got up and made his way to his computer. He moved the mouse and typed in the password (ITSRA1NINGM3N), causing unintentionally mutually embarrassing moment #40323098258 this morning: he had forgotten to reset his wallpaper and it was still a veritable Fruits Basket yaoi showcase.

"Ugh..." Haruhi said, looking away.

"You didn't see that."

"No I didn't."

After a few seconds he coughed, tapped her on the shoulder and she looked back. The screen had been reset to the Windows 8 default.

"So then, let me see...what was the name of that escort site-"

"**DAD! NOW IS **_**NOT**_** THE TIME!"**

Facepalm take three. "Haruhi, dear, give me some credit. I'm just bringing the website up so it loads, dirty sites take a long time to...I mean not that I would...never mind. Look, this site is related to what happened. I never look up porno or anything with you in the same room."

"So you look up all your porn when I'm not in the room, great, that's _much_ better."

"...I give up. Anyway to start off, I got an email from 'chunkylover53 aol', whoever that is, that essentially said you were secretly working as a professional escort."

"_And you __**believed**__ them?! Did someone beat you with a branch from the stupid tree?!"_

"Y'see that's just the thing. I would normally have dismissed that sort of thing outright as an example of something weird making it through the spam filter, but here's where it gets interesting."

He opened up their email client and brought up the message in question. After just a cursory examination Haruhi was stunned and more than a little scared.

"_Oh my God!_ How do they know so much about me?! Where I live, where I study at lunch, my hosting record, who I hang out with on weekends...who's this from?!"

"That should have been a clue this might not have been legit. I noticed too late they never spell that out, they just identify themselves as a 'worried friend' at this part here," Ranka clarified, pointing at a portion of the message.

"Clever. Just vague enough to sound sincere, specific enough to sound plausible."

"Yep. Between that and what I'll admit is usually hyper protective parenting on my part that made me begin taking this escort ruse at face value. And thennnnn it had a link leading me a profile page on this site," he said as he brought the now-loaded seedy website back up. Unfortunately for Haruhi there were some pretty disgusting pop-ups now onscreen that Ranka frantically began closing as fast as he could. Not fast enough though.

"I-I think I'm traumatized now. You can _do_ that with Cool Whip?!"

"Haha, yep...I mean not that I would...never mind. Anyway, so yeah. This is an escort site, duh, and if I type your name into the "Search Escort by Name" toolbar you come up." True to what he said, a page with her supposed interests and the like and a slutty image of her came up in a new window.

The profile image of "Haruhi" (which sickened real Haruhi to no small end) showcased her from the waist up apparently sitting in a booth, probably at a *cough* "_gentleman's"_ club. The picture had been taken at a slight downward angle to maximize exposure of the breasts. She was squeezed into an outrageously tight, partially see-through black dress that an actual prostitute would probably have had the self-respect and modesty not to wear. And of course it showcased enough cleavage that it would probably get you arrested or at least leered at if you were brave/slutty/stupid enough to wear it in most public places. Needless to say "Haruhi" did not appear to be wearing anything close to resembling a bra.

"Um, dad? That's my face alright, but that's definitely someone else's body."

"Yeah. I figured as much last night when I came back to this site _just to recheck it_," he said, adding the last part when he noticed Haruhi eyeing him skeptically.

"Holy cow, just look at her," she said, glaring at the girl's jumbo-sized breasts in disgust. "I mean, you wanna talk about cows, my boobs are nowhere near that gigantic!"

"_Well excuse me for not looking at your chest more closely first glance, young lady! I didn't exactly feel like checking out my own freakin' daughter's goods on the Internet! I'm pretty sure that sort of behaviour's still mildly frowned upon in most parenting guides!"_

After Ranka's little outburst they just stared at each other for a few seconds until, unable to take the absurdity of this whole surreal debacle anymore, they both began cracking up and started laughing hysterically.

Haruhi sighed. She felt like simultaneously praying in solitude at her mother's shrine for advice (which she made a mental note to do later), and maiming whoever was responsible for all this. She still had to figure out whatever on Earth was happening here, so she began reading aloud from the provided text of "Haruhi's" interests.

"'Hobbies include swinging, drinking, partying, submissiveness and experimenting with myself'...ew. Just ew. 'What I look for in a man is someone who will tell me what to do, give me what I need in bed, and can feed me bottle after bottle of champagne'...no, no, no, and they spelled champagne as 'champgine' for some reason. 'I show bad boys I mean business by taking off my top'...not on your life, dudes. 'Breast cup size is-'...ha, I wish. Okay, I'm gonna stop here before I puke. There's no clues at all, asides from that whoever wrote this is a complete bimbo."

"I suspect whoever sent the email just copied that edited photo of you onto an existing profile."

"Same. But I still have an idea of who they are. Because they know so much about me they must see me on a daily basis, which means they must go to my school. Which means that while it's probably a jealous student, it does remain a possibility that it's an adult instead since they do know I'm female."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Oh, I think I've figured out what I'm going to do" Haruhi snarled as she cracked her knuckles. The air began to take on an unnatural, suffocated feel, and the lights began flickering ominously on-and-off. Somewhere off in the distance a crow cawed.

"Um, Honey? Please tell me that was just the power flickering?"

"First, I'm going to make them beg for mercy, them I'm going to ignore their pleas and send them to Hell alive." The Demon Lord #2 had arisen.

"Honey...those aren't, no they can't be...are those ghosts and spirits I'm hearing?"

"Wraiths and spectres actually. Neat, huh? A friend taught me how to do that, and this demon voice too", she gurgled disturbingly in an impossibly low baritone voice. She grinned what was supposed to be a toothy smile.

Ranka scrambled away into the bedroom and locked the door, shivering; it had kinda come off more as an **"I AM HARUHI DESTROYER OF WORLDS!"** sort of smile.


End file.
